


Despair

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Death, Hey look it's a zombie au, I just haven't found it yet, Isabella is dead, Otabek is a badass, TW: Violence, There's probably some sort of plot in here somewhere, Viktor and Yuuri are married shhh, Yuri is Sad™, Zombies, oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 06:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which a new virus mutates and leaves the gang in danger.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri Plisetsky was crying. It was dark outside, and he figured Viktor and Yuuri were asleep, so he was trying to keep quiet, but who knows if it was working. He didn't know what else to do in this situation. Cramped in the furthest bedroom at the end of the hall on the second story of some old apartment that stank of mildew with half the stairs knocked out, encompassed by the feeling of hopelessness, fear, and desperation for things to go back to normal, it was easy for one to be reduced to a sniveling mess of tears and mostly-silent sobs.

He was on watch for the first few hours of the night- the three of them took turns keeping watch for three hours each every night, like clockwork. It was boring- he didn't have his phone, he didn't have his pet cat to play with, he didn't have his boyfriend to cuddle. He didn't have anything. Well, besides his weapons and the two males behind him. The blond had found himself growing more and more protective of them as the days bled into weeks, and the weeks bled into months, much like a tigress with her cubs.

Still, knowing they were practically family wasn't enough to help him. Not tonight, at least. He missed Otabek, he missed Potya, he missed his grandpa. So he cried. He cried and didn't stop crying for the three hours he kept watch nightly. That was how it went.

Yuri eventually had to pull himself from his miserable sniffling and whimpering. He wiped his face with the dirty front of his shirt, he took a few calming breaths, and hoped in the shadows his face would seem less splotchy as he tiptoed across the floor to try and poke Viktor awake. Aforementioned man's pet poodle Makkachin, who was surprisingly stubborn when it came to surviving in this new hell of a world, lifted his head up with a little whine as he approached.

He had even grown to like that dog, as well, surprising as it may be, and paused just long enough to reach down and scratch behind his ear before turning his attention back to Viktor.  
"Viktor," came the Russian's whisper as he jabbed the oldest of the three in the forearm with his index finger, grateful that his voice wasn't shaky. "Wake up, old man." 

Viktor was, put simply, never pleased about being woken. He'd recently become fond of longer and longer amounts of sleep, taking comfort in the solitude it gave him and the memories of an era where things were normal.  
Viktor did not have nightmares very often. He had not often had anything to fear, in his childhood and early adulthood. Much of his time was wasted away ice skating on the lakes that froze over in winter, or cooped up in whatever skating rink was closest to him. He missed that time. Everyone did, honestly.

That was the reason, when Yuri attempted to awaken Viktor, he was considerably displeased about it.  
"Ngh… Yuri, I'm tired... Go away…" Viktor probably grumbled some more colorful words, but they were muffled by his arm, which was cushioning his head.

  
Eventually, he stretched a little and looked at Yuri. "What do you need, Yuri?" Nikiforov asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes and running a hand through his greyish-silver hair.

Yuri felt somewhat bad about waking Viktor. He didn't like waking either him nor his husband, and, in turn, didn't like being woken himself. Sleep was the one time he could pretend things were normal, save for the nightmares and sudden jolts of panic. He swallowed dryly and took a second to reply. "It's your turn to keep watch. Do you want me to cover for you?" He always volunteered that. It was, alternatively, better than sleeping- no night terrors.

Viktor looked a bit surprised, but quickly gathered himself. "No, no. You need sleep just as much as I do." He moved to stand up, and upon catching sight of Makkachin, he did this even faster, whistling softly as he paced over to his beloved pet. He crouched down in front of his dog, scratching Makkachin behind the ears contentedly.

"Beautiful Makkachin, beautiful." Viktor murmured, laughing softly - before remembering what he was supposed to be doing. "Try and get some sleep, Yuri. We never know when we need to move around, so it's always good to be well rested. Makkachin and I will tell you if we see anything."

The Russian nodded at him. Normally in a situation like this, he'd argue, but lately Yuri didn't have the heart to do even that. He just felt sad. Sad and angry. He didn't understand why things turned out like that, and it pissed him off. He stifled a yawn and curled up where Viktor previously laid- though he didn't cuddle up to Yuuri, unlike Viktor.

Yuri really didn't want to sleep. Sleep meant nightmares, and nightmares left him more drained than pulling an all-nighter would. Still, it had been a full day and a half since his last actual rest, and it was starting to weigh on him. His eyelids began sliding shut without his conscious permission, and when they did, he was out like a light, fingers curling around the hilt of one of his hunting knives strapped to his thigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've noticed that on my profile, it shows this fic as two separate works. I don't know why? Anyways here.

Otabek Altin had never liked Jean-Jacques Leroy.  
He didn't like the swagger with which he moved, the bragging about his achievements in the lives they'd all had before, and Otabek didn't even pretend to be fond of the endless flirting almost any living human they encountered was met with. As a matter of fact, Otabek had even considered killing JJ, after one incident involving a kitchen knife, a deer and most of their little troupe's food. And yet, Otabek was - regrettably - still hanging around Jean-Jacques. He would've certainly preferred to be in Yuri's company. Perhaps that, of all things, would make this hellish earth a little closer to the paradise he'd been drifting through when with his Yuri.  
But Otabek Altin was alone, despite being so painfully aware of the too-loud breathing of his companions.

It was his turn to take watch for the night, leaned against the crumbling wall of the small one-story building with boarded windows and glass on the ground. So there the Kazakh sat, eyes dull and downcast, pokerface etched onto his expression like a carving in stone, with heavy thoughts and a heavier heart, waiting through the night. 

**

Otabek was praying that the signs of life JJ was showing were not happening. "Please drop dead and be replaced with Yuri," he muttered, staring irritably at Jean-Jacques' (hopefully) sleeping form. Alas, his efforts were in vain. JJ was definitely alive. Otabek leaned against a wall, cracking his joints and savoring these last moments of peace before all hell broke loose. He started to sift through one of a few bags he'd been carrying, checking for snags in a rope, kinks in the kitchen knife he'd confiscated from JJ, etc.  
Everything was in perfect condition (minus the knife, which had been long since worn close to blunt with use).

Alone for that short time, Otabek's thoughts quickly wandered to Yuri. He thought about Yuri often - wondering where he was, what he was doing, and most importantly whether he was even alive. Otabek didn't like to delve too deep into that last question. The underlying fear that Yuri was dead was painful already, and considering the possibility only made it agonizing to know nothing about his dearly beloved. Otabek did not like to think about Yuri Plisetsky, that beautiful boy with the soldier eyes and a tiger's heart.  
Which was why he found himself standing over JJ, yelling at him to wake up.

JJ had slept surprisingly well that night. He hadn't had any nightmares- for once-, he hadn't woken up every half hour out of panic. Hell, he didn't even stay up that late. Of course, with the pain of waking came the pain of the memories of the most recent events, the main one of those being the loss of his soon-to-be wife, Isabella. Naturally, that already had him set in a foul mood, so being woken so rudely by his companion yelling at him was almost enough to make him lose it. Still, he did his best to play it cool- he was still King JJ, after all- and forced his eyes open, standing quickly to meet Otabek's gaze. "Keep your fucking voice down, Beks." The Canadian gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"There's never anyone else around here but our ensemble. Nobody is going to hear it." Otabek said calmly, shouldering his backpack. "And never call me 'Beks' again as long as you live, or else you won't be living much longer." The Kazakh began to pace the floor, head down and eyes searching for anything they might've dropped. Whether they were leaving or not, Otabek liked both having a ritual and the knowledge they had left no evidence of their presence here. Nothing that could give them away, nothing that could show that any of the three had ever existed. Otabek eventually withdrew himself to the wall he'd been leaning against moments earlier, watching JJ out of the corner of his eye. "Have any interesting dreams?" Otabek inquired.  
See, there wasn't really any form of media left, so people usually found new entertainment in each other's dreams, whether they were pleasant or not.  
"Might as well say. Not like there's anyone else nearby to save the surprise for."

Jean chuckled at his words, putting on his carefree facade again. Oh, how he _hated_ that facade. But, he'd mused, it wouldn't do any good to lose his head now. The male shook his head and looked over to Mila, who had jolted awake at Otabek's sudden outburst, before grabbing his own backpack and beginning to look through it, making sure everything was still there.  
"I only have nightmares, now, Beks, or I don't dream at all. Tonight was one of those nights." He knelt down to tug on the end of his jeans, pulling at the edge of one of his shoes to adjust it. He then straightened again and stretched, hoping to ease the tension in his muscles in some way. "I'd ask you the same question," he chirped, unable to bite back a bit of snappiness, "but you took watch last night."

Otabek shrugged off the bitter tone in JJ's voice. "Mila, what about you? Anything interesting?" Mila mulled over this for a moment.  
"Apart from the recurring nightmares about pizza becoming illegal, nothing special." Mila was probably lying. Otabek knew that they all lied about what they dreamed of somewhere along the line, as pleasant dreams became few and far between. Despite knowing this, he pressed her further.  
"Not even anything about ice skating? You're lucky that pizza is all you dream about, Mila." He glanced at her idly, having given up his efforts when she only confirmed that her aforementioned dream was only about pizza and what condiments were and weren't confined to the black market. Otabek drew up to his full height, pushing off the wall. "Should we leave soon? It's not good to stay in one place, and we have most of our stuff packed already."

JJ nodded, dusting off his jacket absentmindedly as he patted his hips for the handgun tucked there, satisfied upon coming into contact with it.  
"Where exactly are we going, Otabek? Be real with me. You've dragged us all the way across Kazakhstan and now we're heading towards the border into Russia. You're looking for him, aren't you?" JJ should probably just be quiet. It could be coincidence- where else would they go, anyways? Yuri had been a sore spot for the Kazakh these past few months and it was blatantly obvious. Still, he was getting tired of moving from place to place when the chances of running into another living person dwindled lower and lower every day. He figured he might as well ask. No harm, no foul, right?

Otabek stared at JJ incredulously for about a minute, too stunned to even talk.  
After a while, he regained his composure. "And why shouldn't I want to look for him, JJ? Wouldn't you try and look for your fiancée if she was here and missing?"  
Otabek paused, looking away from his companions. "Anyway, Russia had a pretty high population, so the chances of someone alive being there are higher, even if we don't find them. Then we could cut through Russia and the neighboring countries to France, or Spain or Germany. Maybe there's something there. We don't know until we try."  
Otabek had been throwing out suggestions for a while. The moment his plans were questioned, he'd back them up with 'We can use __ as a shortcut to cross into __.'  
"And I have a good feeling about this, okay? It'll be the right country this time."

"Russia _had_ a higher population. For all we know, we could walk straight into a horde of those fucking creeps. But hey," He shrugged, trying not to feel hurt over the mention of his fiancée, "you're basically the leader here. Lead the way. Just... Don't get us killed?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm back with another fic. Yes, I will be continuing this, though updates might get slow at times. I'm 99% sure this work is marked as "complete" as of right now (1-17-18), but I can assure you it will keep going. ^^ What do you think so far?


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